


Contiguity

by yourdykeinshiningarmor



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Rape/Non-con, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Podfic Welcome, Pre-Canon, Pre-Movie(s), Puppy Piles, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourdykeinshiningarmor/pseuds/yourdykeinshiningarmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa isn't used to sleeping alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Green Places

**Author's Note:**

> This is one my head canons for Furiosa and how she has spent her life not needing (very often) to sleep alone. She's always had someone. First, the Vuvalini then War Pups and War Boys. It is not a sexual thing, just seeking comfort in the presence of another being. Now as an imperator, she is facing the fact that one of her base comforts is gone. This will be a trip down memory lane for Furi as she remembers how she has got around this trouble before and we will see if she gets around it again this time.
> 
> This work can be considered part of the same universe as my other Mad Max work ([To Keep Moving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4990471/chapters/11463958)) and will eventually help explain some of the relationships there.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Furiosa closes the door, sliding the lock in place, and looks around her new imperator’s quarters. It’s higher up in the Citadel, so not as cold as the rooms for the Boys and Pups, and a window carved out of the rock face reduces some of the dampness that permeates the Citadel. It’s dark outside, but the light of the moon lets her see that the room is sparse but functional; a desk and chair in the corner, a few shelves hollowed out of the rock to put her things, and a straw pallet mattress on the floor, all her own. It’s this last thing that concerns her the most.

There is a new blanket at the foot of the bed and Furiosa grabs it. It’s just as rough as the one she brought with her from below but it’s a bit thicker at least. She spreads both out over the pallet and gets ready for bed, hanging her arm on a hook near the bed and, out of habit, layers on all her remaining clothes. She cautiously climbs into bed, pulling the blankets all the way around her head in a protective cocoon. She’s done this before but that doesn’t mean she is looking forward to it. Being alone at night has never been something she’s tolerated well, but she’s dealt with worse. As she realizes how far she’s come in this current life of hers, she can’t help thinking back to her life before the Citadel.

——————-

Her earliest memories are of curling up with her mother or one of her aunts. Once she is old enough to walk, she helps with the daily gathering of edible plants and seeds while some of the other women are off hunting. Naps, no matter how hard she fights them, usually find her curling around whoever is in charge of minding children that day. Each night, they would make camp and Furiosa, along with the other children, would crawl into someone’s bed to sleep when they get too tired to listen to the stories around the fire. When a warm body slides in beside her, she can’t help but burrow in deeper.

Often, they are in a different place each night, but sometimes they spend weeks with one of the more settled clans. They would trade stories and goods, enjoying, briefly, a stabler way of life (not that they want to settle, the Swaddle Dogs thrive off movement). It always takes a few nights, but eventually Furiosa warms up to some of the other women and would find herself cuddling with them at night, too. By the time Furiosa is no longer a toddler, these women become as much her aunts as the women in her own clan. As she grows, should would rejoice when they came together again or mourn to learn of their passing, grabbing at their memory and bringing it close to her heart.

***

When Furiosa has her first blood moon, she is given a blanket of her own. Instead of her mother or aunts, she now seeks comfort with the other young uninitiated women. While she is sad not to have the nocturnal kinship of the older women, she knows the bonds she forges here will carry her through her lifetime. None of the other girls are strangers to her; she’s spent every day of her life interacting with them. What is different is discovering how each varies at night. The adults never seem to care how Furiosa sleeps and to her they all seem the same: holding her close at night and keeping a protective arm around her. She finds that some of the girls, like her, burrow in close to their partner, while others prefer to keep the barest hint of air between them. Some simply need to touch somewhere along their body, but others need to be completely interwoven, arms and legs twists around each other. It isn’t long before Valkyrie, one of her closest friends, joins her in the mini-tribe of young women and the two become frequent sleep mates. More often than not, the pair sneaks away past the edge of camp to make their bed in the quiet of the earth and talk in whispers late into the night. 

***

Furiosa is nearly grown and an initiate now. She is out with her mother one day gathering plants along the edge of the desert in a valley just on the other side of the camp they’ve made. They’re ambushed, armored cars and bikes flying over the top of the ridge without warning, and before any of the clan can get near, Furiosa and her mother are restrained and shoved into the back of a car. They try to fight, but there are too many of them. They drive for an hour or so before they come upon a small camp and are thrown carelessly into the back of a truck trailer.

Furiosa doesn't know where they are being taken, but she can take a good guess. She’s heard the stories about a man who buys up healthy young women to produce children for him and his circle of warriors. They say that they are forced to breed and that he treats them worse than animal stock. And if they don’t breed, well, no one says what happens but she imagines they are culled from the herd so to speak. She watches helplessly as other women are captured during raids and crammed into the trailer with them. Each new group huddles close together, unsure if they can trust any of the others in with them. For the first two nights, Furiosa sleeps curled up protectively around her mother, just in case. 

On the third night, she sleeps alone.


	2. Metal Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case, I wanted to warn everyone that this chapter does deal with the time Furiosa spent in the Vault. As such, there is mentions of rape. Nothing graphic but it is there nonetheless. If you are sensitive to this kind of material, you may want to skip this chapter. The rest of the story will still make sense without reading it, but if you want a summary of the chapter without the triggering bits, please let me know (see the end of the work for a link to my Tumblr) and I would be glad to get it to you.

Furiosa’s eyelids snap open; she inhales sharply. Her body remains stone still but her eyes dart quickly about the room looking for threats in the faint moonlight. Her right hand clenches around her handgun, ready to fire at the smallest provocation, but there is nothing. The nightmares are already retreating into the dark recesses of her brain, but the feeling of complete _violation_ is thick within her and she knows it was about her time in the Vault. Thankfully, she doesn’t remember the details.

Even though she doesn't want to leave the imagined safety of her bed, Furiosa gets out and walks to the water skin on her desk. She knows she won’t fall back asleep quickly. Even if she did, she would slip back into the same terror she’s just escaped from, and she definitely doesn't want that. She takes small sips, drawing out the time before she finally crawls back into bed.

It’s her seventh day as imperator and her seventh night of nightmares. She knows it’s because she’s alone, but still can’t figure out what to do about it. Even though she has slept by herself for longer periods than this, here, she is completely alone and isolated from other people. At every other point in her life, there were at least bodies somewhere near her; she could hear them breathing or see the faint shadows of someone moving around. In what is now a new rock prison, Furiosa is left alone with just her past demons for company. Against her better judgment, she thinks back to another time inside walls of rock.

***

Eleven days after the scavengers stole her, Furiosa is sold to Immortan Joe. She fights it as best she can, but it only seems to endear her to him. Furiosa screams and kicks, acting like the ferals they sometimes find wandering the Wastelands, as two burly men drag her down the hall and a group of white-painted boys eagerly dances around them. From behind, she can hear talking.

“This one will give you strong sons, dad!” a little boy yells as they all cram into a lift.

Someone shoves a dirty rag into her mouth to quiet the screaming, and she gets lightheaded from the traces of oil and guzzoline on it. She’s panting from all the struggling so she rests for the moment, catching her breath and breathing careful through her nose to avoid some of the fumes. There’s not much she can do anyway, trapped in this moving cage, and the men behind her are holding her braided hair too tight.

The little boy looks up at her with adoration. “She’s so shine!”

“Yes, Rictus,” her new captor finally says, giving her a lecherous grin. “She is quite a fighter.”

Furiosa glares daggers at him.

The fight begins again once they exit the cage, but it’s all for not. In the end, she is violated by a man known as the Organic Mechanic, tattooed low on her back to proclaim her a healthy full-life, and branded as the property of Immortan Joe. The rough rope around her wrists and forearms has abraded the skin away and the constant pain is starting to override the rush of adrenaline. The points on her arms and legs where they’ve held her down are sore in the way that she knows will be bruises in the morning.

By the time they leave her in the Vault, the light is fading and she’s exhausted. Furiosa stops screaming sometime after getting the brand, her voice all but gone anyway, and only gives a token fight on the way to her new prison. They remove the gag, but leave her bound, not trusting that she won’t still turn on them.

“Miss Giddy will care for her,” Joe replies to the questioning looks of his imperators and glances down on her once more before smiling and leaving with the rest of them.

As the door clicks shut, the sound of her breathing is suddenly harsh in the silence. Furiosa can feel the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, though she doesn’t make a sound. She isn’t sure how long she is there, but a light touch to her shoulder makes her jump and scream, rolling away from the source.

“Oh, you poor creature,” whispers the woman. She reaches out again, but stops when she sees the newcomers slither further away. “What have they done to you?”

Furiosa watches as the woman slowly sits down in front of her, still several feet away. She is a curious creature with wispy hair a lighter blonde than Furiosa’s, shrewd eyes, and thin blue lines that look to be words covering parts of her arms and legs. She speaks of anything and nothing, and Furiosa finds herself relaxing at the soothing cadence of her voice. Movement from a doorway reveals three other women. Furiosa realizes suddenly that this woman has done this before. These women have all be subject to the same tortures as her, more even if the rumors about this man are true.

After a few more minutes, she rolls onto her belly and lifts her arms a fraction. Furiosa hears the tattooed woman get up and tries not to flinch when the woman touches her to undo the bindings. She doesn’t move initially beyond letting her body go lax without the forced positioning of the restraints. The woman gently rubs her shoulders and upper arms, all the places that burn now at the released pressure. When Furiosa finally sits up, she is overcome with a wave of emotion as the full force of everything that has happened crashes upon her and she latches a hand onto the back of the woman’s skull, pressing their foreheads together.

The woman says nothing at the unusual contact, but runs a soothing hand slowly up and down Furiosa’s back. After several minutes, the woman finally speaks.

“My name is Miss Giddy. What should we call you?” She continues her reassurance, not stopping her hands or pressing for an answer.

Furiosa eventually pulls away and manages to whisper with her cracked and raw voice, “Furiosa.”

Miss Giddy nods and turns behind her, beckoning the other women out.

“This is Glass, Bell, and Natty. No doubt you’ll get an absurd name from him like the rest of us.” She turns to the girls. “This is Furiosa.”

The other women approach slowly while Miss Giddy helps Furiosa up, and they take her into a side room. There, she’s cleaned, her now ruined clothes taken away, and dressed in a flowing dress similar to the other women. She frowns at the unfamiliarity of the fine cloth around her but is too tired to care. Afterwards, they move to the bedroom where there’s a large pallet on floor that can easily hold all of them. Miss Giddy leads Furiosa into the center and they all form a protective circle around her; torsos, arms, and legs weave together until they all feel like one. Furiosa feels the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes again but she refuses to let them fall. It may not be home, but she lets herself relax into this new clan of women, and, for the first time in nine days, she sleeps.

***

Furiosa’s been in the Vault for only thirty-four days but already she knows the routine. Joe comes every four or five days (unless he’s feeling extra ‘generous’) and he breeds one of them at each visit. He leaves as soon as he’s done with no mind paid to his chosen victim. Sometimes he comes in with a specific target in mind and nothing can sway him; these times are especially quick and brutal. Other times, one of the girls will purposefully draw his attention to spare the others. Afterwards, they all care for the victim: bathing them, changing their clothes, and it always ends as a tight bundle of bodies on the bed.

If one ignores these times, life in the Vault is nearly perfect. The Wives are given plenty of good food and fresh water, Miss Giddy teaches them of things from Before and things from After, and, within the confines of the Vault, they can do almost anything they want. However, the moment that door opens and Joe steps through, an idyllic paradise becomes a living hell.

Once Furiosa’s blood moon has come and gone, Joe finally seeks to claim her. She is warned by Missy Giddy that this is what will happen; Joe wants to be absolutely certain any progeny from his Wives are his. The first time ends with her foot to his crotch and a swift hand across her face. Once he recovers enough to talk, he calls her Spark and leaves, but she knows she hasn't escaped that easily. Joe’s back the next night, two imperators in tow, and they hold her down while Joe has his way with her. They leave her across the desk he’s shoved her over, and as the door closes, she sinks to the floor and scoots back until she is in a corner.

Furiosa pulls her knees to her chest and silently sobs. She’s only known the gentleness of a few of the other initiates, and even though she’s heard and seen the process enough already for a lifetime, nothing could prepare her for exactly what she’s feeling now. Miss Giddy is the first to appear, approaching much the same as she did that first night, but the others join soon enough. They wrap her up in their love, doing their best to push out the horrible memory, and, even though Furiosa doesn’t sleep that night, she at least feels the outpouring of protection and care from every one of her fellow prison mates. She hasn’t know these women very long, but already knows that they all would do anything to help her; she vows that she will do the same for them. 

***

It’s been almost two hundred days and Furiosa is hunched over the sandpot as her insides violently expel whatever has tried to take up residence in her. Joe’s frustrated with her lack of pregnancy and her attitude with him wears on his nerves. What once was endearing has become an annoyance.

Natty and Glass have gone through the same process twice, so Furiosa isn’t overly surprised when she wakes up in the middle of the night with violent cramps. In reality, when she is able to think between the intense spasms of pain, she is glad that this is happening. She knows now that any normal girl-child born to her will be taken immediately to be raised by the breeders in the lower rooms, to be used (if she survives) as a womb for more War Pups as soon as she is able. A normal boy-child will stay with her until he is weaned, but then Joe will take him and corrupt him like he has done already with little Rictus. And if, by some miracle, a half-life child survives long enough to be born, well they will be lucky if they even get to take a lungful of air before the Organic ‘takes care of them.’

Bell slides down the wall beside Furiosa and gently rubs her lower back and offers a hand to grip during the worst of it. Bell is maybe a hundred days or so in, her belly already showing a gentle curve. They had all held her tight when she was sure that her blood moon wasn’t going to come. Six days later the Organic confirmed the worst. The fact that she is this far along already means that she has a healthy child, or at least one not affected by the worst of Joe’s diseases.

When the first part of it is over, Furiosa grabs a blanket from the bed where the others are sleeping and brings it back to where Bell is still sitting. She doesn't want to be too far from the pot when it comes again and appreciates the company. She settles down next to Bell who wraps an arm around Furiosa’s shoulder, pulling her in close. Furiosa rests her head under Bell’s chin and places a protective hand over Bell’s belly; the fact that this child was made from Joe’s seed makes her want to protect it even more from the evil man. While they all feel a deep sadness at the death of their children, it is tempered with the fact that it is probably the kindest of all the possible fates. Silently, she hopes for an easy fate for Bell’s child. The pair falls into a dreamless sleep, propped up against the wall, until Furiosa’s cramps wake them again a few hours later.

***

The moment Furiosa is led from the Vault, she knows something is wrong. She glances back at Bell, with her growing belly, and Glass, with hers just barely showing, and nods in goodbye. Natty is being cared for by Miss Giddy after Joe finished with her. It’s her three hundred and seventeenth day in the Citadel and she is worried it may be her last.

The imperators lead her down to the Organics workshop. Ever since her miscarriage, she hasn’t had another blood moon, but neither is her belly swelling with child. She is left in one of the cages, Joe having told the Organic to inspect her and decide if she’s still worth keeping. Furiosa is bound, like she is anytime she’s outside of the Vault, and the Organic takes this time alone to give Furiosa a _very_ thorough examination. Furiosa simply screws her eyes shut through the worst of it, knowing that fighting will only make it worse.

When Joe returns later that day and Organic reports that despite being healthy, she still isn’t having her blood moon and it’s not because she is with child. For some reason he can’t explain, she probably isn’t even cycling anymore and therefore not fertile. Joe takes it all in and is silent for several minutes before finally giving his verdict.

“Some of the older Pups have been useful, despite not yet earning their grease. Give her to them as a reward.” Joe gives her a hard stare. “Perhaps that will take the Spark out of you. Mark her, too, before she goes.”

Furiosa remains silent but refuses to look away. Joe just laughs and walks out of the room with the Mechanic. They leave her there for the night, alone and cold. Furiosa manages to wiggle into a somewhat comfortable position within the tight cage, despite still being bound. The eerie sounds of the Mechanic at work and the dying in other rooms make sleep difficult. It takes half the night, but, eventually, a fitful doze settles upon Furiosa and visions of whatever new horrors might await her drift up to the surface. She wakes several times, body shaking from the unsettling dreams, but eventually tells herself, that nothing can be worse than the horrors of dealing directly with Immortan Joe.


	3. Puppy Piles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic has gone from a quick little one-shot about how Furiosa has slept over the years into a much more detailed character study and backstory with far more plot. **shrugs** Sorry-not-sorry. I still do hope that you enjoy it, though!

Furiosa is exhausted, but between the nightmares and the cold nights, she can’t sleep even if she wanted to. She spends the days split between training in the Sparring Pits, watching the War Boys, and in the Garage adding on to her War Rig. She needs to finish putting together her crew and, with the Ace’s help, she’s nearly there.

Today, though, she heads down to the Kennels, looking for any promising Pups that would fit in her crew. She finds a few and tells them to talk to Ace to see about more training. When she turns to leave at the end of the day, she ignores the odd feeling of nostalgia. She has only been here a handful of times since she left all those thousands of days ago, but they well up nonetheless.

Furiosa ponders it more in her room that night. Except in name, the Kennels look almost nothing like the place she spent almost one thousand days. There is more light (though it’s just as damp) and more rooms have been carved out of the rock to be used for sleeping, eating, and learning. One thing she’s noticed that hasn’t changed, though, is the puppy piles. She’d seen a few of the younger ones napping wherever they fell, their friends quickly curling up next to them as sleep took them, too.

A smile tugs at the corner of Furiosa’s mouth at the thought and she pulls her blanket up to her ears. It took many years to get where she is now and it’s a constant fight every day to stay there, but she can look back fondly now at the years she spent as a Pup. It wasn’t always easy, but there were things from that time that she still treasures to this day.

***

It’s the next day before the Organic finally lets her go. Furiosa doesn't get off easy, though, and she’s pinned down and tattooed before they release her. She fights as hard as she ever has, but they just tie her tighter. She doesn’t know what it says, just that the words cover her lower back and could be read by anyone taking her from behind. Fortunately or not, Organic runs his mouth enough that she gets an idea.

“Such a waste, you are,” he says as he finishes, dabbing the ink and blood-soaked rag on her skin. “Pretty little thing like you. Traded some good supplies for you, too.”

Furiosa struggles as his hand slips around her front and screams into the rag shoved in her mouth.

Organic just chuckles. “Serves you right with all the Immortan gives you.” His hand comes back to linger over part of the tattoo. “Last one that couldn’t bear him sons was thrown from the Skull.”

Furiosa stills as his fingertips trace the word she knows is separated out between two bold lines and catches enough of the letters to know that it says ‘infertile.’

“Pity, too,” Organic says as he stands and walks away. He calls over his shoulder, “would have made some chrome babies, you would.” He returns with a pair of shears. “Now, hold still, love,” he says as he grabs a fistful of hair, “wouldn’t want to spoil the Pups’ gift.”

The smile that spreads across his face makes Furiosa’s stomach churn but she holds still as sections of her long blonde hair are chopped off in uneven clumps. No doubt, the lengths will go into making something and the bits that he leaves are still long enough to grab and she shudders at the implications of it. When it’s all done, they cram her back in a cage to wait.

It near dark when they pull her out and drag her down to the Kennels. The War Boys shove her in unceremoniously and leave with a cackle. Furiosa stands up quickly and takes in her surroundings; all she sees in the fading light are a plethora of white faces, all of them as surprised as she is. Most are far too young to understand the ‘gift’ Immortan Joe has made of her and the few that do are too scared or sick to try anything at the moment.

Several minutes pass before the Pups start moving again, continuing with their nightly preparations but always with an eye on her now. She watches as they pair up or form groups, notices too some of the younger ones already asleep strewn across one another, having missed the entire affair of her arrival. She takes several steps back until her body is flat against the rock and slides down it, wincing as it tugs at the abused skin there. The light is nearly gone now and the few small fires that burn are hardly enough to light the cavern they are in. She’s exhausted and even though she doesn’t trust anyone here, she can no longer fight it and feels herself drift into an uneasy sleep.

Furiosa wakes several hours later to an unfamiliar weight and warmth around her legs. She tamps down on her initial panic long enough for her eyes to focus in the darkness and is surprised to find three small pups piled on her lap, and she doesn’t think any of them can be more than a thousand days old. She’s heard whispers that Pups are taken from the breeders as soon as they can walk and feed themselves, and seeing the ones sleeping here, she knows it’s true. She couldn't imagine being pulled away from her mother or aunt’s that young and feels a sudden sadness for them, as her hands brush protectively across two of the smooth heads resting on her thighs.

A small noise causes Furiosa’s head to snap up and she sees another small white body standing a few feet away, tightly clutching at a scrap of cloth. This one’s older, maybe two thousand days, but he’s looking hopefully at Furiosa. She quirks her head at him, then it dawns on her that he wants to join but is too afraid to lie down without asking like the younger ones did. She lifts an arm and before she can even motion for him to come closer, the boy is practically jumping into her lap. She worries for half a second that he going to disturb the others, but after a brief moment of shuffling, everyone is back asleep, the newest boy curled into her chest. Furiosa lets her arms settle around the Pups and can’t help the tiny smile that pulls at the corner of her lips. She doesn’t know what the morning will bring, but for now at least, she lets herself fall back into a semblance of sleep.

***

The next few days see Furiosa mostly left alone except for her growing circle of young Pups. The oldest among them explains life in the Kennel to her: they learn how to fight, the War Boys come and take them when they need help or if they have a skill they like, and, if you are lucky, someone picks you for Crew and you get a chance to earn your grease.

“What about at night?” Furiosa asks. “Do you always sleep like this? In piles?”

The pup shrugs his shoulders and nods. “Don’t know any other way.” He looks a little worried as if she’s going to tell him they can’t anymore.

Furiosa smiles and gives her head a nod too. “Good.” She smiles fully at seeing him relax with the agreement, glad that he isn’t going to be told to stop.

***

Furiosa is doing everything she can to avoid the attention of the others; however, while the oldest Pups no longer fear her, they still won’t approach, and she knows it only a matter of time until a confrontation. She watches them practice, notes the alliances, and quickly puts together a mental list of War Pup life.

Furiosa makes it seventeen days before one of them tries to bracket her in dark corner. The scuffle is brief and only Furiosa emerges, her only injury a scrape to her cheek where she’d be forced against the rock and a tear to the back of her dress that exposes part of her tattoo. She knows she needs to get new clothes, especially if she intends to make something of herself here, but also knows that _everything_ here is taken or earned. Despite her dress, she walks across the Kennel with purpose and her head held high, body telegraphing a clear challenge to those who think they can control her. She sees his friends run into the alcove and tries not to think about the unconscious boy she’d left or the smear of blood from his head that now decorates the rocks.

Her Pups (they _are_ her Pups, she realizes suddenly) stand huddled across the room, obviously afraid of the confrontation, but they smile and cheer as she walks back towards them. She makes it three-quarters of the way there before they run over and swarm her. Furiosa lifts the youngest into her arms and gives the rest a warm smile, unable to resist their innocent happiness. The thought that she might have found a new family tugs at the back of her mind but she refuses to acknowledge it; this is all still too new to give it credence yet.

“Smeg-eating Breeder!”

Furiosa looks up to see a friend (she thinks his name is Piston) of the Pup she’d just beaten standing in their path. She stops and, without conscious thought, shifts the Pup in her arms and angles her body so he’s slightly protected and her good arm is free. She just glares back.

“Who do you think you are, coming in here and acting like you own the place?” Piston takes a step closer.

Furiosa is easily a head taller than him, but he is broad where she is tall. She sets the Pup down and steps in front of them all, gesturing with her arms that they should stay back. It’s one thing to attack her, but she’ll be damned if anyone harms the young ones. They stop just within arm’s reach of each other.

“Ex-wife,” he calls, reciting the word he’d seen on her back.

Furiosa feels the slow burn of anger well up inside at the words, but she keeps her face calm.

“Infertile,” he taunts again.

She has seen him coming and going with several different War Boys and wonders what they’ve told him.

“Gift from the Immortan.” A sadistic grin breaks across his face.

Furiosa glares back, feels the heat rising in her cheeks, but forces herself to be still. She has no problem defending herself but the Vuvalini avoided unnecessary violence. She can see Piston tensing up, see his resolve beginning to crack, when another voice breaks the silence.

“NO!” One of the young Pups runs out past Furiosa before her hands can stop him and stamps his heel down across the bridge of Piston’s foot and bangs small fists on his belly.

Without thinking, Piston swings a hand and knocks the Pup away, sending him sprawling with a pained scream.

Furiosa is on him before her mind consciously registers, head slamming the middle of Piston’s torso and tackling him to the ground. He reflexively grabs the fabric of her dress as they fall and Furiosa distantly registers it tearing more. She straddles his hips and presses one hand to his throat while the other fist rises up and repeatedly pummels Piston’s face. She can feel him desperately trying to buck her off, his hands grabbing anything he can and nails raking her sides and arm. What she lacks in training, she makes up for with sheer force of will. She stops, fist still raised, when she notices his hands go lax and a gasping whimper escape his mouth. Her breathing is harsh and she’s suddenly exhausted. She leans in close, she loosens her grip on his throat and her mouth nearly brushing the shell of his ear as he trembles below her.

“Touch them again and, next time, your pants are mine,” she whispers. She’d seen it, once, on a Pup who’d finally succumbed to his disease, the fight over who got his pants. She knew that was valued most amongst their meager possessions, only going to the highest-ranking Pup that was interested.

Piston gives the smallest of nods in acknowledgement.

Furiosa rises and makes a quick decision. She storms back to the alcove, the sea of Pups gathered round parting before her, and disappears inside it. She emerges a few minutes later, black cuffs sticking out from under her dress, and returns to her Pups and ushers them back to their corner. The Pup may not be dead, but she’s just established herself nonetheless.

No one bothers them as they settle down for the night.

Early the next morning, Furiosa wakes and gently extracts herself to go use the sandpot. She didn't pay attention when she left, but when she returns, she is surprised to find some older pups curled up with her pack. She isn’t surprised once she realizes they are the ones that hang back along the edges of the groups, the ones that are picked on most. She carefully insinuates herself back into the group, not minding the new additions. Yesterday, she was afraid to hope that maybe she’d found a new family, but as she drifts back to sleep, she thinks that if she can provide a place for those like her that don’t belong, a place where they can feel safe and maybe even learn from one another, then maybe, just maybe she has found a family.

***

It takes time, but soon they are a force to be reckoned with, despite the relatively small size of the pack. Furiosa makes it clear that any are welcome to join, so long as they are fair and hard working. Those that aren’t, that think anything is theirs for the taking, are kept away with the ferocity of the feral dogs that lurk around Citadel.

After a hundred days, these other Pups stay away unless it’s for training.

After four hundred days, War Boys move cautiously around them when they come to the Kennels or see them out doing work. Everyone knows that if one is harmed, the pack will attack. Maybe not right away, but they will, sure as day follows night.

It takes almost a thousand days, but even the Imperators notice.

***

Furiosa mostly keeps to herself, busy learning about cars and different ways to fight, her childhood growing up on the back of a motorbike immensely helpful in getting her jumpstarted. She has no desire to go out on supply runs or in War Parties, aiming instead to be a blackthumb. Even though she might be able to take a chance at freedom, she dreads more coming upon her own people and having to fight, having to kill.

Unfortunately, she doesn't get a say in the matter.

Imperator Morslo comes to the Kennels one day looking for new crew. Most of the Pups scramble up, trying to impress him, but Furiosa and most of her pack stay put where they’re at in the back. It isn’t until the light is blocked and she can’t see the piece of motor she’s been tinkering with that she looks up and see Morslo staring down at her. She meets his gaze and refuses to look away.

“Tomorrow,” he eventually says after several minutes of silence. “You’ll come with my Crew for the Run.”

Furiosa says nothing, but inside she is seething. She’s heard the rumors about this man, the steps he’s taken to become Imperator and the things he’s done to crew that fail him. She knows that she has no choice, not if she wants to live, not if she wants a chance at a merciful death at the hands of enemies. They stare at one another for a minute more then Morslo leaves without another word. Furiosa returns her gaze to the piece in her hands but her mind is gone. She can’t deny the unease in her gut and gets lost in thought about what the morning will bring.

***

The three-day ride to Bartertown is mostly uneventful. A few Buzzards and other vagabond groups attack but it’s half-hearted against the large War Party travelling with them. The Rig Crew doesn't even get a single lance off.

As the town comes into view, Furiosa breaths a small sigh of relief; half the trip is over. They spend a night there and leave the next morning, less most of the water in the tanker and heavier with the goods they’d traded for: raw metals, machine parts, and a new Wife for the Immortan.

“You will stay with her,” Morslo says to Furiosa as she’s walking past on her way to her spot on the back of the Rig.

Furiosa glances up briefly to see him pointing at the young girl in the back of the Rig. So this is why he wants her here, to act as guard dog.

“Her life is your life.”

Furiosa stares at her shoes but says nothing, every bone in her body crying out to run or fight. After taking a calming breath, she grudgingly climbs into the back of cab and settles next to the door.

***

In hindsight, she should have known. Furiosa should have realized the attacks on the way out were just a test, something to let down their defenses a bit.

The _real_ attack comes in the middle of the night.

Furiosa is staring out the window when a glint of light catches her eye. She calls out but Morslo he ignores her and waits to raise the alarm until the Buzzards have nearly descended on upon them. There are more cars than just one clan, and they take out half the War Party before most of the War Boys are fully awake. It really was clever, using a few attacks to steer most of the vehicles into a minefield. Furiosa lifts her rifle and begins picking off the attackers, one by one.

One minute she’s aiming at the driver in the car pacing them, the next she is tumbling through the air, bouncing around inside the Rig. She manages to grab a handhold outside of the doorframe in an attempt to steady herself but almost instantly regrets it. At the same time, the Rig finishes its roll and comes to rest on the side Furiosa is on. It would have been fine except that her hand is now trapped between frame and sand, and the Rig still has enough momentum that it’s sliding. An unearthly scream escapes Furiosa as the sand scrapes away the flesh of hand and anywhere along her arm that she can’t keep raised up. When the Rig finally comes to a halt, Furiosa teeters on the edge of consciousness, the pain radiating up from what used to be her hand threatening to make her vision go black. She refuses to look.

It’s another shriek that brings her back. Someone is clambering inside the Rig and grabbing at the girl. Furiosa swings around and hits the attackers with the stump of her wrist, smearing blood in and across his eyes. A small part of her acknowledges that her hand is indeed gone, but in the moment, she doesn’t care. Her only thought is to keep the girl safe. Before he can clearly see again, Furiosa’s knife is out and cutting a clean red line across his throat. He manages a weak gurgle before he falls.

The sounds of battle are thick outside so Furiosa tucks the girl behind her and does her best to hide them in a dark corner of the small cab. Morslo is unconscious in the front seat, but the others are dead, and she can feel the tendrils of darkness creeping back in as the adrenaline wears off. The steady drip-drip-drip of blood out her arm keeps her present and she manages to pull a belt off the dead War Boy strapped in the driver’s seat and cinch it tightly just below her elbow. She knows she’s lost a lot of blood but there is nothing she can do about it now. In all reality, they’re probably going to die anyway.

Furiosa feels her mind scrambling, desperately trying to find something to hold on to, but eventually the pain, blood loss, and exhaustion win and darkness claims her.

***

Furiosa wakes long enough to hear a Pup growling. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t open her eyes, but the heavy weight on her thighs tells her someone is there. The noise stops and the body settles back down, head and chest splayed protective over her abdomen.

***

The next time she wakes, it’s to an argument. Her eyelids are still too heavy, but she can hear them clear enough and her brain isn’t as foggy.

“I’m tired of you filth filling up my Blood Shed.”

“We’re tired of you trying to take her.”

 _Axel_. It’s her newest Pup, Axel, talking to the Organic.

“Since we know _you_ won’t leave her alone, _we_ aren’t going to leave her alone, either.”

There is silence before she hears someone walking away. When she feels a warm weight curl protective around her, she assumes Axel has won. She slips back into sleep, her heart just the tiniest bit lighter.

***

The third time she wakes, she is more or less coherent and there’s a bright light hitting her face. She blinks until her eyes clear and is surprised to find a War Boy hovering over her with a gas lamp. She’s seen him before, knows he’s been a War Boy longer than almost anyone has, and wonders what he’s doing here. It’s then that she notices the people behind, Morslo and few others from his crew, as well as the warm press of Pups all along her right side.

They all stare silently at one another until the War Boy (she thinks his name is Ace?) holds out a small metal bowl to her. Furiosa frowns, wondering what they could be offering her, when one of the Pups gasps.

“Shine,” he breathes.

It dawns on Furiosa suddenly what’s inside, and she can even see a smudge of black along the rim. She reaches her hands out to take the bowl, but stops halfway there. Her left arm ends in a cluster of bandages not too far below her elbow, probably about where she’d tied the tourniquet. Furiosa closes her eyes as it all comes crashing down on her.

“Don’t you start that now,” Ace says. “Did a good thing. Immortan says he’ll take you to Valhalla himself, Shiny and Chrome, for protecting his property.”

Furiosa flinches and hopes nobody notices, but Ace squints his eyes ever so slightly so she can’t help but think he knows.

“Says you’re to be made a War Boy, even without the modifications if you want.” He moves the grease pot closer.

Her right hand hesitates for just a second before she dips her fingers in, small pyramids of grease clinging to her fingertips when she removes them. Furiosa pulls her hand back and looks at it while she swirls it around her fingers. She looks up at the eager eyes of her Pups and knows she has no choice: if she can do this, they maybe they can too. She brings her fingers up to her eyes, the lids sliding shut as she smears the grease around, turning her sockets and the lower part of her forehead black.

Cheers erupt around her as the Pups jump up in celebration. She shares a bittersweet smile with them, unable to resist their happiness. The others, except for Ace, file out, their part of witnessing the ceremony done.

“Organic says you’re good to go. Tomorrow you leave as a War Boy.” Ace gives her a grim smile before leaving himself.

Furiosa knows she should be excited, but all that she feels is dread. She worries over who will care for the Pups and keep the rag-tag pack together. A squeeze to her foot causes her to look up and there she sees Axel, a sad smile on his face, too. He gives her a small nod and she knows that everything will be taken care of, that someone will continue in her stead.

Organic comes in a few minutes later, complaining about the noise, so everyone quickly quiets down so he doesn’t throw them out. They all settle in around Furiosa, some already asleep before everyone is tucked in. Furiosa closes her eyes but sleep doesn’t come; she’s ok with that though. This one time, she doesn't mind the absence of sleep, the lack of it allowing her to take in the memory of those she cares most about wrapped tightly around her, the ones who’ve protected her for all the days she doesn’t remember (none of them count the days like she does so she’ll probably never know). She knows this is something she’s going to miss, what she doesn’t realize is just how much she’ll miss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this chapter, I wrote out just for me what the Immortan would tattoo on someone like Furiosa with after removing her from the vault. _Then_ I had the urge to draw it and it was decent enough that I actually wanted to share it. So if you wonder what her tattoo says, you can find it [here](http://yourdykeinshiningarmor.tumblr.com/post/133860253076/created-a-tattoo-for-furiosa-for-one-of-my-fics) on my Tumblr.


	4. Boys...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry this took so long. I had every intention to write after the holidays, but then Life and Writer's Block had other plans. I promise the last chapter won't take as long and then I can get back to [To Keep Moving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4990471/chapters/11463958). I am finally getting to the whole point of this fic in regards to the original tiny bunny that I wanted to write and it's relationship to To Keep Moving. Thank you every one for being so patient about this! 
> 
> Two warnings... One, there is a scene that involves implied rape followed by a violent death. Just wanted to give you a heads up. It'll be obvious so you can skim past it if you want (or send me a message on Tumblr and I'd be happy to give you a synopsis of the chapter). Two, I did mash this out pretty quickly and with a minimum of read-throughs for editing, because I _needed_ to post this, 'perfect' or not. So if there are any mistakes, I am sorry. Feel free to point them out and I can correct them!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Furiosa paces the floor of her room, absently running a palm over the stunted end of her arm. There had been a setback in the training of her Crew today and it’s eating at her from the inside. Tails, one of her new lancers had called Socket, a Boy that had come from the pack Furiosa had started as a Pup, soft because he’d found him cuddled up with another Boy this morning. This led to shouting and name-calling before quickly devolving into a dirty fist fight. Furiosa and Ace broke it up soon enough, but not before someone had put a knife into Tails. A few other Boys and Pups had some bruises but no one else was seriously injured. No one would fess up to it, and Furiosa wasn’t going to look into it too hard (the Boy was talented but had a temper on him if she was honest), but she did need to make an effort at controlling them. Disagreements were bound to happen from time to time, but the Crew needs to know how to handle them and who is boss.

The problem with  _ this _ argument lay in the very fabric of War Boy life. She  _ knows _ many of the Boys cuddle at night, needing the warm gratification and steady presence that comes from another body pressed against them, but also knows that most won’t admit to it and many actively distain it. So much is shoved down their throats about strength and valor and being unflappable, but the reality is that many of these Boys are just overgrown children, torn from all things comforting long before they are ready and then spending the rest of their half-lives scrounging for any bit of reassurance they can find.

The only solution really is to let the Boys hash it out themselves. Let them figure out what is and is not acceptable for Crew. As things settle more and her authority solidifies, Furiosa will be able to have some input, but until then, the Crew is too new to each other; Furiosa’s way of thinking is too new to them. She wishes there’s something else she could do, but besides keeping them alive, she can’t think of anything that doesn’t alienate one group or the other. She supposes in time, she can pick Crew that all have the same feelings, but for now this is what she’s got.

Furiosa finally sits in her chair and stares out the window, her mind easily drifting to the past like it has done often these last several weeks. It’s stupid, she knows many of these Boys better than she knows herself, but she can’t make them see what it is that they want or that it’s ok to want it. She rolls her eyes at herself. She  _ did _ show them once, but that was as a Boy herself. She just needs to find a way to show them again, as Imperator, that it’s still alright.

***

Despite being in the Blood Shed, at some point in the night, Furiosa drifts off. She's in a fuzzy warm place between consciousness and sleep when she's awoken by a strange War Boy who's come to bring her to the barracks.

“Let's go,” he says, turning back towards the door, not bothering to wait.

Furiosa quickly extracts her limbs from the tangle of bodies, careful not to jar her new stump. She almost falls over, once, when she thoughtlessly tries to use her left hand, but Axel grabs her in time and steadies her. Axel smiles thinly and Furiosa nods her thanks as she pulls her body up and steps over the Pups. She walks away, fighting the temptation to look back, trusting that Axel will keep things right with them.

On the way out, Furiosa passes by the Organic.

“Make sure you stop by tomorrow,” he says with a creepy grin on his face as he nods towards her bandaged arm. “I’ll make sure you’re, ah, taken care of.”

Furiosa feels a shiver of revulsion go down her spine and she’s glad Organic has already turned back toward the Blood Shed so he doesn't see it. As she heads towards the doorway, the supply closet catches her eye. Furiosa looks around but doesn't see anyone; it’s so early that no one is really awake yet. She dashes in and grabs handfuls of rolled linens and earthen pot of ointment. She stuffs them into the pockets of her pants and dashes out to meet the War Boy.

“Took you long enough,” he says when she gets to him. He’s obviously annoyed and attempts to tower over Furiosa. “Didn't nobody teach you to listen?”

Furiosa waivers for minute, unsure if she should fold to the Boy for once or still stand her ground. She isn’t exactly in prime shape at the moment and doesn't want to start off life as a War Boy any worse than she already is. It only takes her half a second to realize that if she backs down now, it’ll only makes things worse later on. Instead, she plays to something every War Boy will understand.

“Had to make sure the Crew was going to be alright,” Furiosa says as she straightens her spine and pulls her shoulders back. “You don't abandon Crew.”

The War Boy narrows his eyes at her and leans in, but she holds his gaze. 

“You’ve got new Crew now,” he says, voice low. “Got a new Boss.” He stares a her a moment more before turning and striding down the hall, expecting her to follow.

She jogs after him, her long legs easily keeping up with him. The rest of the trip to the Barracks is quiet except for the occasional rustle of one of the Citadel’s few early risers. So it’s a shock when the War Boy pushes open the crude door to the barracks and Furiosa’s ears are assaulted by the cacophony of War Boys getting ready for the day. Despite the main room being crowded, it doesn't take long before everyone notices their arrival and they all fall silent. Only a few here have had direct dealings with Furiosa and her Pups, but everyone knows the stories, has heard the rumors. As eyes fall on her, she feels her body drawing itself up, desperately trying to hide it’s deficiencies. Even though this doesn’t seem much different than her introduction to the Kennels, she knows it’s inherently more dangerous; this time her opponents  _ will _ have weapons and they’re much more adept at combat.

Without conscious thought, Furiosa scans the room. There are three large dens carved off the main room as well as several hallways. She knows the dens are for the crew of the more important imperators, being obviously better furnished and lit than even the central space. Furiosa even notices a smaller den in the corner that is full of sad looking Boys obviously at the end of their half-lives. Despite being a full-life, it makes a part of her feel happy that she isn't the only one who hates the Organic and prefers to be among her own if she’s sick or dying. She’d much rather die soft here, among the War Boys, than with the Organic.

From the crowd, a familiar face steps forward. 

“Find him a bunk,” Ace says as he gestures towards towards one of the hallways. He gives her a hard look before returning to the group he’s come from.

Without a word, the War Boy walks off. Furiosa follows. Once in the hallway, she sees that the bunks are carved right into the walls. They’re two high and more often than not the bottom one is bigger. Some even have small niches for them to store some of their less precious valuables. Every so often another hallway splits off from the main one, but only every third lamp is lit since it’s still early, so Furiosa can’t see far. More than once, Furiosa thinks she sees an extra arm or a second head in the same bed but they pass too quickly for her to be sure. 

Furiosa feels the chill right before they turn the corner into the end corridor. While she wouldn't exactly call living inside a rock fortress warm, this area is outright cold and  _ wet _ feeling. The lighting is poor too, not because they haven’t lit all the lamps, but because there aren't as many. Based on the few bodies she can see, this is the place for the newly-greased or the failing still too proud to move to the Death Den; nobody here is wanted. 

The War Boy stops near the end and Furiosa can see a choice of three bunks, two upper and one lower. While the lower one is bigger and closer to the fire, she can see a sheen of water glistening in the cracks. She looks at the two upper ones and tosses her jacket onto one of them. She turns to face the War Boy and is happy to see that he is already walking away. She doesn't fancy figuring out how to get herself up with an audience. It takes a few tries but eventually she finds a few notches in the wall that serve as steps and hoists herself up. As she settles into the straw mattress, Furiosa can finally relax the tiniest bit. She doesn't sleep but silently listens to the faint noises around her. When she hears the others begin to rouse, she rises with them. Some are surprised to see another body, some are not.

“Wondering if they were ever going to give you your grease.”

Furiosa’s heart skips a beat at the familiar voice from her pack and she takes a step closer. “Splice? Is that you?”

Splice steps into the light and smiles. “The one and only.” He gives her a cursory look in the half-lit room. “By the Immortan, what happened to you?”

Furiosa looks down at her arm and huffs a laugh. “It’s a long story.”

“Come on then,” he says as he gestures towards the exit. “you can tell me as I show you around.”

Furiosa follows him and lets herself hope (just the tiniest bit) that maybe this time it won’t be so hard to fit in.

***

Furiosa isn't surprised when, three days later, Splice refuses to give her all but the most sporadic of looks. What little bit of headway he’s made in securing himself a crew has taken a nosedive when he's seen with Furiosa. Seven days after Furiosa arrives, a good day in training (and the lingering look of an imperator) is all it takes to seal the deal and leave her all alone again.

***

“Fucking Mothers,” Furiosa grits out as she cleans her arm. The incision on her arm is basically healed but there’s one edge that she can’t seem to stop using that’s got infected. Thankfully, it’s mild enough that she thinks she can avoid seeing the Organic. She applies some of the purloined ointment and wraps it up again. 

Many of the War Boys are out on another Special Supply Run so Furiosa is eager to make use of the training rooms and the Pit. No one is particularly keen to acknowledge her, but they are more than happy to fight her. The first few were awkward with her constantly trying to use a hand that wasn't there; muscle memory doesn't disappear or rewrite itself overnight. Last night, despite still losing, she’d finally got some good hits in. The success, no matter how insignificant, has renewed her drive. She trains alone, wanting to hone her skills some before trying them out again.

***

“So what do you think she did for the Immortan to throw her out?”

Furiosa pauses for a second in her stretch routine, listening to the Boys behind her. Despite the fact that they should know she can hear them, she finds many of the Boys simply talk about her like she isn't there. Granted they're in the common room, but it’s not that loud in here right now.

“Bet she was trading paint with the other Wives.”

One of the Boys chuckles.

“Yeah, two breeders ain't much good for breedin’.”

“Bet I could fix that. Make her  _ want _ a gearstick.”

Furiosa cringes at their tone, at the implication of their words, but continues on. Almost a hundred days in this hell have taught her that immediate confrontation isn't always best. Sometimes it’s better to wait for things to come to you. 

And sometimes they come sooner than you want them. 

Furiosa notices one of the shadows shift and feels the Boy stop behind her. She straightens up and suppresses a shiver at the unmistakable firmness pressing into her backside.

“So what was it?” the Boy whispers into Furiosa’s ear.

_ So they did know that I could hear them _ . Furiosa doesn't answer. She waits. She waits until she feels his hand start to pull her closer to him. She lets her legs go out from under her and twists away, rolling when she hits the ground. The Boy grabs for her and misses, throwing his balance off and causing him to stumble. Furiosa pulls herself up and faces him. She quickly palms the knife she’s retrieved from her boot before he can see it. She waits again, shifting on the balls of her feet. She finally gets a good look at him and sees that he is one of the upper War Boys, his forehead painted in a pale grey, but she’s never bothered to learn his name. 

“Should I tune you up?” taunts the Boy as he circles with Furiosa. “Getting you runnin’ straight again?”

The other Boys notice the confrontation and surround them, closing in the space they have to fight. Furiosa bides her time. The Boy has mass and strength on her, but she has speed and agility; she isn’t going to screw this up by getting inpatient. The crowd's cheers and taunts grow louder with each minute of inactivity before the Boy finally lunges at Furiosa. She ducks again, escaping his grasp, but he still manages to catch her ankle. What should have been a roll becomes a sprawl and Furiosa scrambles to get herself upright. Before she can fully stand, he jumps on her back, slamming her body to the ground and giving her mouthful of dirt.

“How does that feel, breeder? Should I show what it's really like?” he says into her ear as he grinds his hips into her ass.

Furiosa lets out a growl before throwing her head back with all the strength she can muster. Her skull makes contact with his face and she can feel the cartilage of his nose crack with the force. The Boy topples back and instinctively reaches up to cover his face with his hands. Furiosa pushes up and uses the Boy’s momentum to continue his backward motion. He tries to roll away but his leg gets stuck beneath him and Furiosa flips herself around until their positions are reversed. Furiosa leans all her weight into him, her legs pinning his arms to sides and her left elbow pressing painfully into his throat.

“Fuckin’... kami-krazy… breeder…” the Boy grits out, already turning a dangerous shade of purple with the exertion and sudden lack of oxygen. He manages to free one of his arms and latches his hand around her throat. He squeezes with every bit of strength he has left.

Furiosa tries to break free but if she leans back then she'll let up on him and she'll lose what little advantage she has. Instead she pushes harder into him, leaning all her weight onto her left arm, until she is only inches from his face. Despite the tunnel vision and spots appearing in her periphery, she readjusts her right arm and gives the Boy a maniacal grin. Her grin widens at the look of shock from him when she presses the cold edge of her knife to the flesh just below his sternum.

“Suck my gearstick!” she grits out as she shoves the point in and twists. The Boy flails for a moment, desperate to stop it, but soon stills. She rocks herself back until she is sitting and her chest heaves with the exertion. It's then that she notices the silence that is slowly giving away to hushed murmurs and gesturing. A hand juts into her field of vision and Furiosa jumps back, still primed for an attack. When she looks, Furiosa sees that it is only Ace offering her a hand up. After a questioning look, she takes it and he helps lift her to her feet.

“Say it's all yours,” Ace whispers when they are only a few inches apart.

Furiosa locks eyes with him for a split second, but he looks away as soon as she is up and steady. Ace heads back to his group and watches as Furiosa takes in the circle of War Boys. They’re all equally perplexed about what to do next. Furiosa is the first move once her breathing has leveled out. She squats down next to the dead Boy and pulls out her knife, giving it a cursory clean on the hem of her pants. Then she starts to rifle through his pockets, pulling everything out and stuffing it into hers, whether it’s of use to her or not; she’ll go through it all later and decide what she can use for barter. When she hears someone’s boot scrape on the rock behind her, she’s spinning and has her knife drawn before she’s even standing. The War Boy raises his hands and backs away, not looking for a repeat performance. 

“His bunk,” Furiosa says once she’s taken everything she can. She looks at Ace; she doesn't trust anyone here, but he is the one she distrusts the least. She sees him contemplate it, watches as he decides if he's going to listen to her or not, but eventually he jerks his head to the side and walks off; Furiosa follows. She walks past the circle of Boys, knocking a few on the shoulder when they refuse to move for her, and doesn't look back. 

Ace doesn't make it very far into the hallway before he stops and points to a rather large bottom bunk. There isn't much more here than she already has but she can tell that the blanket is better at least and it's so much warmer here. Furiosa’s eyes shift back up to Ace as he starts to leave. 

“Thank you,” she says to him as he passes, barely more than a whisper.

Ace hesitates and looks at her. She sees his crooked mouth work, teeth chewing on some words, but he eventually just grunts and walks away. The corner of her mouth twitches with a sad smile as she watches him go before she turns back to her bunk and settles in.

***

It's the middle of the night when Furiosa is roused from her sleep. She shifts without conscious thought, repositioning her body to better fit into the warmth behind her. She suddenly realizes that it's a  _ body _ behind her and that she’s in the  _ Barracks. _ Furiosa flies up and fumbles for the knife in her boot, pinning the equally startled body against the rock by his throat.

In the dim light, Furiosa can see a meek-looking War Boy, eyes glistening with fear even as he looks away from her.

“What do you want?” she asks quietly through her teeth.

The Boy lets out a shaky sigh as he glances back at Furiosa. “N-nothing.. just… just giving warm… like I did for Cuff.” He looks away and mumbles, “and hoping for some protection.”

_ Cuff _ . That must have been the War Boy’s name. “And what’s  _ your _ name?” Furiosa asks, suddenly needing to know.

“Box.” He looks back to her and quirks his head in confusion, like no one has ever bothered to ask who he is.

Furiosa pulls back suddenly, knife still at the ready, and gives Box a good onceover. He’s small, not nearly as muscled as some of the other Boys, despite the fact that he looks to be around the same age as Furiosa. When he speaks, his voice is not unlike some of the Pups but it still sounds older than they do. When Box moves, Furiosa sees the shimmer of twin scars on his chest and she understands. 

Despite her brain crying out in warning, her heart melts a little for this Boy.

Furiosa leans back and sheaths the knife, still giving Box a critical eye.

“What do you want?” she eventually asks. She has no qualms about starting up another group here among the Boys, but she will be just as picky about who she lets in.

Box furrows his brow, thinking for what seems to be a long time. “To ride to Valhalla,” he eventually responds. He’s wringing his fingers, and it’s obviously not the answer he  _ wants _ to give, but it’s the one he gives anyway.

Furiosa nods. It’s not quite what she’s looking for, but it’s good enough. She really doesn't expect anything different from a War Boy.

“Don’t do anything stupid and I maybe I can help you get there.” Furiosa shifts, pulling Box towards the front of the bunk, and settles down. Box looks curiously at Furiosa until she lifts the blanket and indicates that he is supposed to lay down in front of her. It takes a minute but they eventually get settled, Furiosa’s front spooned up Box’s back. She expects to lay there, awake, for the rest of the night, but as the morning light floods the hallway from the common room, she wakes up to find she’s had the best sleep she’s had in weeks.

***

No one talks about it, but with Furiosa’s influence more War Boys start pairing up, in bed at night or, in the dark corners of the rooms. Sometimes, even, a pile forms where someone has fallen asleep after a raid. Many are just for comfort, some are for more, but either way, if Furiosa hears of anyone complaining, she gives everyone a reminder of what  _ she _ can do and things quiet down. 

She takes in the stragglers and unwanted again, includes them in her training and gives them at least some sense of purpose besides waiting to die soft. Box becomes her biggest supporter and, after a few months of training, his own force to be reckoned with. He may not be strong but he is smart and fast like Furiosa. His tumors keep him from getting picked as part of a Crew, but he’s an amazing mechanic and gets to ride out as a black thumb more often than not.

One night, almost four hundred days after she’s made a War Boy, Furiosa feels an unfamiliar body slip in behind her. Her hand wraps around the knife she keeps hidden under the scrap of cloth her head rests on, but she waits. She’s gotten used to Boys joining her at odd times, and despite the unfamiliarity she doesn't feel  _ that _ threatened. Once they’re settled, they don’t quite touch, unlike some of the others that need to thoroughly entangled themselves with her. They are just close enough to feel the warmth of each other under the thin blanket. 

Furiosa can feel him squirming, not in any kind of threatening way but in a way that speaks of his discomfort. She waits, knowing that he will settle down, get out whatever it is, or decide to leave.

Eventually the Boy decides on the second option.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice gruff but  _ very _ familiar.

Furiosa freezes, feeling her breath catch in her chest. She’s surprised that it’s Ace. He’s never been against anything she’s done, but he’s also never participated or acknowledged it. He’s easily one of the oldest Boys still alive, despite his relative youth compared to a full-life, and nothing ever flusters him. Even when the speculation had started that maybe he was a full-life, only to have it dashed when he’d found his first lump, didn't phase him. There had been whispers about it for days; rumors that when it came this late that it would be fast. Ace simply ignored it all and his tumors seemed to do the same. They come and go, and don't seem to bother him much. Ace just continues on, taking each day as it is and doing everything to his best. So to hear him now,  _ thanking _ her, and seeking her out to share a bed, is mildly unnerving. She thinks about it, the unflappable Ace wanting,  _ needing,  _ these small comforts too, and what it might mean, but in the end it doesn’t matter. If he’s able to acknowledge his need, despite his mannerisms in the daylight, who is she to deny him.

Instead of responding back with words, Furiosa scoots herself back, just enough to feel the faintest touch of his skin on the small of her back and his wispy breaths on her neck. She  _ should _ feel vulnerable like this, usually does which is why she often sleeps facing the Boys that crawl in with her, but she feels small waves of calm wash over her in increments as the seconds tick past and they both relax. Just before she drifts off to sleep, they both let out a big sigh and the rest is lost to dreams.

*** 

They still never talk about it, but as the days wear on, Ace and Box become the two constants in her life. Other Boys come and go, being claimed by disease or riding too fast into Valhalla, but Ace just seems to plod on. While Box is there more often than not, Ace doesn’t share her bed every night. Even with Box’s company, Furiosa almost always had a small crowd hovering near her bed vying for the privilege of joining in too. She never picks, and doesn’t know how they decide, but no one fights Ace when he walks over with the intent sleep. Furiosa’s small revolution made it so that for the next three thousand days she spends scarcely a night alone. 

That is until Joe notices her again and makes her an imperator.

**Author's Note:**

> Love, in all its forms, is much appreciated, as is any constructive criticism. I'm also on [Tumblr](http://yourdykeinshiningarmor.tumblr.com/).


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